


i am your future, i am your past

by Nyxierose



Category: Timeless (TV 2016)
Genre: Cross-Posted on Tumblr, F/M, Ficlet Collection
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2019-11-17
Updated: 2019-11-17
Packaged: 2021-02-08 00:30:09
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 730
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/21467071
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Nyxierose/pseuds/Nyxierose
Summary: Assorted prompt fills and shorter ficlets, generally unconnected and variable ratings.
Relationships: Garcia Flynn/Lucy Preston
Comments: 2
Kudos: 36





	i am your future, i am your past

**Author's Note:**

> Ficlet compilation 2 for these darlings. Here's to another 50 prompt fills and tiny things. All cross-posted from my tumblr [@electricbluebutterflies](http://electricbluebutterflies.tumblr.com).
> 
> Compilation title from "The Wolf In Your Darkest Room" by Matthew Mayfield.

It is truly amazing the things one learns about oneself after one takes a new lover, Lucy thinks as the bathroom door closes behind them. Or no, most of this began years earlier, since the moment she met him. Perhaps she was strong all along, passionate and emotional, and all she needed to blossom was the right trigger.

Well, that trigger is currently looking at her with unholy puppy eyes like he _knows_ exactly what she’s about to unleash on him, and that is damned well not helping.

“What the _hell_,” she growls, trying her best to be intimidating. She’s learned this works better if she waits until they’re home after the mission - gives her time to prepare, in this case a little over an hour to decide why exactly she’s pissed off. “You… you…”

“Ran into the middle of a battle, yes,” Flynn finishes. “And your point?”

Oh, she’s not sure where to even _start_ right now. Yes, fine, weaponry of the 1730s wasn’t advanced. But guns that can only fire once a minute are still a problem if there are thousands of them, not to mention that was the glory days of the bayonet. There are _countless_ ways that could’ve ended badly. Apparently none of which have occurred to her partner, but that’s just a normal Thursday for him and-

“You could’ve gotten... shit, you _did_ get stabbed.” Not deep from the look of it, but the bloom of red on the side of his jacket doesn’t look like a design choice. “Coat off. Now.”

He complies and yep, a small wound compared to what could’ve happened but still unpleasant and still likely to be a bacteria swimming pool by this point. Lucy has learned all of her limited field-medic skills through trial and error on this particular body courtesy of his aversion to letting anyone else touch him, and ignoring that kind of injury is just...

“Shirt,” she orders as she pulls supplies out of the tackle box under the sink. She’ll panic later, once this is all dealt with, once-

His size has saved him, she thinks as she applies medical alcohol to clean the wound. On a smaller person - anyone else on the team, for starters - this would be a catastrophe. But Flynn is, if nothing else, conveniently built like a tree. Takes a little more effort to hit something vital, and no such effort was put up. In a few days, in the unlikely event he doesn’t do anything else stupid in that time, this will heal up fine and it’ll end up just another one of his collection of scars.

There’s no point trying to stitch this up, she decides. Clean and covered will do, and he doesn’t need any more pain. Probably deserves it, but-

“It did work,” he mutters.

“That does not make me feel better. You keep... you keep trying to die. And I can’t accept that.”

“Even if the sacrifice is worth it?”

Satisfied with her efforts, Lucy straightens her body and puts her hands on her partner’s chest, allowing herself to fixate on his steady heartbeat for a few moments before she launches into it.

“Nothing in the world would be worth losing you,” she hisses. “Nothing. Understand?”

If there is one bright spot in these incidents, it is that he’s less inclined to fight her in damaged condition. No attempt at out-talking her, just softness as he tangles a hand in her hair and holds her close.

“Someday it will be, Lucy. You need to accept-”

“I accept none of this,” she counters. “Nothing in the world, nothing in all of time and space, is worth me losing you. Understand?”

He lets her be, kisses her forehead, allows her to cling like she needs to. Not what she wants, but nor does he make it worse.

“Do you... do you need help out of that dress?”

“Something to balance against would be nice,” she replies.

He is solid and good and hers, steadying her as she sheds her layers, watching reverently as she figures out the modern comfort of sweatshirt and leggings. Solid and good and hers, and she will not let anything take him from her.

Nothing in the world. She would love to watch the monsters try, watch them learn what she’s actually capable of. And by her side, the only person who’s always believed.


End file.
